Why?
by The Just King's Shadowhunter
Summary: Rosalie, lost without her twin, struggles to understand why he did what he did. She finds her answers in his journal. - AH.


**I know I said I was done with Twilight fics... but this popped in my head, due to a book I was reading, and it seemed to work better with Jasper than any other character. This will be a one-shot.**

**Warning: Character Death.**

**AH. AU, obviously.**

* * *

**R****osalie POV**

The monitors beeped steadily, my twin's chest rising and falling at an even, slow rate.

His face was white, and though he was my twin, he looked younger than me, maybe due to his vulnerable state.

I wanted to know why.

Why had he swallowed those pills? My brother and I had a perfect life. We were rich and both of us were extremely good-looking, something we were very often told. Our mother loved us—I didn't know about our father, as he never paid any attention to us, but still, we had a perfect life.

Seventeen was too young to die, especially for my brother, sweet, charming Jasper Hale.

I reached out to grasp his hand. Icy cold. He felt like death.

"Rosalie, darling?" My mother whispered from the doorway. "It's time for you to go home. Visiting hours are over."

My mind took a few minutes to process her words. Then, sighing and nodding, I stood.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Jazzy," I told him. His face didn't change. His eyes didn't open, not that I expected it. I went out the door quickly, following my mother.

I was careful not to look back.

* * *

That night, I sat on the floor of Jasper's bedroom, looking through a pile of things I'd found under his bed. I didn't care that it was an invasion of his privacy—I was going at least try and figure out what was wrong, seeing as I wouldn't get anything out of him if he woke up.

Post it notes… books… pens… and a small journal, stuffed full of notes and cards. Ignoring these, I opened it to the first page.

Just a drawing of a dragon.

Disappointment swelled in my chest. Nothing?

I turned to the next page… to find a poem with no title. The date in the corner was from just a few weeks ago.

_I whisper in fathoms of darkness_

_So soft no one hears,_

_Not even me. _

_When I raise my voice,_

_False reflections cast lies,_

_Until I no longer know myself. _

And then, in big, dark letters:

_I _

_Do_

_Not_

_Exist_

A chill swept over me, and I covered the words with my hands, not wanting to see them. I Do Not Exist. The words frightened me. Jasper must've been going through something awful.

I found myself wanting to cry again, my eyes stinging with tears. I should've been there for him, should've been there to help him.

Swallowing hard, I looked down at the little book again and flipped a few pages, coming across another few lines. There was no date.

_I wait to die_

_End this misery_

_There is no light_

_Help me_

_Darkness_

_Alone in a dark hole_

_Words drown in cruelty_

_I can't be heard._

I wiped away the tears in my eyes and sniffled.

Should I even read more? I wondered. It's personal…. But if he lives… I need this to help him. I have to try to understand him, don't I?

So with a deep breath, I found myself flipping the page again. Lucky me, I didn't even have to search. The next one was on the very next page.

_I find myself filled with a lot of this lately… this... Hate..._

_It sounds so strange to say it out loud... Hate… it doesn't have a nice feeling. _

_I HATE-_

_It's just not me. Not Jasper._

_It's not how I want to be. _

_It doesn't sound right coming out of my mouth._

_It doesn't sound right swirling through my head._

_Why is it that I constantly find myself forcing this word from my head_

_I hate that…_

_There it is again…_

_Lately it creeps on me…_

_I know what causes it… I'm tired._

The next several lines were scribbled out. And very good, too—I couldn't make out most of the words through the scribbles.

The further I got, the worse it got.

The more frightening.

I turned the page and saw nothing… flipping through the next pages, there was nothing there. I was about to give up when I found one last poem tucked into the back. The date was only yesterday. To be honest, I was a little afraid to read it, but I did.

_**Beginning…**_

_Hands moving._

_Mouth open._

_Eyes closed._

_Mind drifting_…

_**Thinking of…**_

_The game tonight. _

_Does Maria want pink, black, or gold?_

_An Essay Due in English Lit. _

_Chocolate ice cream in the fridge, _

_Can't decide what to do_

_After school with Maria tomorrow. _

_**Ending… **_

_Standing_

_Smiling_

_Lying_

_Crying_

_Done. _

I snapped the book shut, mind reeling.

Oh, Jazzy, sweetheart, what kind of hell were you going through? Why didn't you just ask someone for help? Why did you swallow the pills instead of just asking me to help you?

I slid the book back under the bed quickly.

* * *

The days crawled by slowly, and the doctor told us that Jasper wouldn't be coming back from the coma.

Mother was grief-stricken. Daddy was emotionless, and accepted this news with a curt nod. "Thank you, Doctor Smithson," he said, making no move to comfort my mother, who was weeping into her hands. Me, I was frozen.

The doctor averted his eyes from my mother and nodded slowly, making a hasty escape.

Numb. I was simply numb.

My twin was gone.

Jasper, how I hate you right now. How dare you simply leave me alone? Why did you not ask for help? Why? Why did you kill yourself?

And then, against my will, I began to cry as well.

* * *

The sky was gray and bleak—it was raining, too. I held an umbrella over my head, acting as if I couldn't feel the cold wet rivulets down my neck and in my hair.

"…Sorrow fills our hearts this sad moment, a sorrow that is…"

My mind rejected the words. Why should I care?

Jasper wasn't even dead. This was all pointless.

"Our lives will be empty in the areas that he brightened…"

My eyes flickered briefly, so unwillingly, to the open grave, to the white-and-diamond coffin being lowered into it, into the metal box. Quickly, as tears spilled, I looked away, head jerking to the side.

Mother stood stiffly, head held high. She would not cry now, no, she would wait until we were home and then she would cry... retreat into the alcohol, maybe…

"….will miss a highly intelligent, vibrant individual with friendliness and a charming personality…"

Time passed. I blocked everything out, refusing to listen to the minister.

When it was over, Father placed a hand on my back and guided me toward the car, stopping me now and then so that friends and cousins could offer their condolences, hug me, kiss my cheeks, whisper meaningless words. Finally, I was in the car and away from the godawful cemetery, the cemetery where my darling brother, my twin, would be forever…

Why?

* * *

**End.**

**I do not own the poetry or Twilight. **


End file.
